I missed the mark.
I could not find the g-spot of this poem.
I looked and looked.
I looked high and low.
This poem is androgynous.
This poem claims no sexual orientation.
This poem is a Barbie or Ken doll.
This poem will whip you for stepping over the line.
This poem is a chalk outline of its former self.
This poem is chivalrous and believes in holding the revolving door open for everybody.
This poem will do no harm.
This poems eradicates evil by simply coloring outside the lines.
I missed the point.
I could not find the strength to save myself so I named names and became a pariah.
I wished and wished.
I wished on a shooting star and a tortilla chip that resembled our savior.
This poem is apolitical.
This poem resists the notion of holding any type of office whatsoever.
This poem is a tall drink of water and a cheap shot to the ribs.
This poem will give you a standing ovation for standing up to the ghosts in the machine.
This poem is a loaded gun and a not so surprising admission of guilt.
This poem is argumentative and will filibuster if and when the fan blades begin to spin.
This poem will beat you down for looking at it when it bites into a sandwich.
This poem is truth serum injected into your milk-blood when you’re on the losing end.